


Golden Star

by L_Y



Category: JYJ (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: (don't worry - not too depressed), (or almost lovers), Awkward Tension, Biting, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Depressed Min Yoongi | Suga, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Long philosophical dialogues, M/M, Mild Smut, Partly inspired by the musical "Dracula", Strangers to Lovers, Vampire!Junsu, Vampire!Taehyung, Vampires, human!yoongi, mild d/s dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 15:11:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13837386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_Y/pseuds/L_Y
Summary: “You look like you want to eat me alive,” Yoongi finally managed to whisper.The man did not answer. Only gulped and shut his eyes to open them again a second later and gaze even more deeply Yoongi’s face.“Who… who are you?” Yoongi stuttered. “What do… what do you want?”The stranger slowly shook his head, smiling almost sympathetically. “Oh, little human…”“Who are you then?” Yoongi demanded uneasily. “A… fuckin’ vampire?”The man threw his head back and laughed, his high-pitched voice ringing boyishly.Or: a bunch of thieves attack Yoongi in a dark alley, but his unexpected saviour is a bit odd for a human.





	Golden Star

**Author's Note:**

> It all started at a fateful autumn evening when I was chatting with my sister. I sent her some pictures of Yoongi and Junsu, joking that someone should write a fanfic about these two (because my JYJ bias and BTS bias would be really cute together). She told me to write one myself and I said to her that it's a crazy idea and I'm pretty sure I won't do that. I mean, I love writing, but I have found myself almost unable to write anything romantic. Death scene is a hundred times easier than one kiss, really.  
> So... here I am, with my very first fanfic. Romantic and all. And as I feared, it was harder (pun intended!) to write than any philosophical essay, book analysis or poem I have ever written. All authors here, my admiration and respect for you has grown immensely.  
> I hope you enjoy. And if this fic inspires you to write something with the same pairing, then please send me a link.

It was quiet in the old bookstore. Books were lazily basking in sleepy afternoon sun, peaceful and content in their shelves. Dust was dancing in golden rays, thousands of tiny sparks in honey-coloured air. Not a single customer in sight, only books, sun and those little glimmering flakes.

It was quiet in the old bookstore… if you did not count soft music coming from the worn-out piano in the corner – a little off-key and dull, but beautiful nonetheless. A man who was sitting on the bench was the only one to break a golden-brown, nearly fairytale-like atmosphere of the room. He was dressed in black shirt, faded jeans and big combat boots, too rough and mundane for an ethereal place like this. But his skin was ivory white, almost glowing in the luminous air, and his fingers on the keys were long and delicate. Black hair framed soft childlike face with dark, surprisingly old-looking eyes. It seemed like all his lived years had been compressed to this tired sight, two deep black orbs. Sometimes the man stopped playing and gazed to thin air, fingers trailing a faint scar on his neck.

 

* * *

 

Yoongi could vividly remember the day they met. It was a few hours past midnight when he stumbled out of the bar, angry and brooding, because his ever-worrying friend who unfortunately happened to be the barista in charge refused to sell him more than three drinks – damn you, Seokjin! While he had been grumbling and swearing, the older man had lectured him how dangerous and useless it is to push away his problems and feelings with drinking, to the point when Yoongi abruptly stood up and stormed out of the bar, not wanting to hear anymore. What feelings? He almost did not remember anything like that. His psychologist had told him that he was doing a good job, trying to overcome the anxiety and suicidal thoughts. His parents had agreed with him leaving home and moving to Seoul, thinking that the change of environment would be good for him. And the treatment he had gotten so far seemed to work – too well, actually. Or maybe it was just another side of the same coin, because the longer it was, the calmer he would get, until everything seemed like a cool grey ocean in a cloudy day. Peaceful, repetitive, motionless and so utterly, utterly boring. Once there had been times he had cut himself because of the angst and pain; now he sometimes did it out of sheer boredom. A drop of red in his all-grey world.

Yoongi turned to the dimly lit alley when suddenly there was a dark figure in front of him and his eyes caught a flash of steel. “Hey, you!” the stranger said. “Wallet and jewellery!”

Maybe it was alcohol numbing his mind, maybe he just could not help to care, but instead of running or doing what the man had said, Yoongi just flipped him off and told him to “get the fuck away from him”. Everything else happened too quickly for him to properly register. Suddenly there was not one man but three of them and without any preamble he was pinned to the cold wet ground while the robbers began to search him – not very gently, might he add. Seeing an arm just before his mouth Yoongi bit down into it – hard – and relished the pained scream somewhere above him. But his joy was short-lived when the man slapped him across the face in retaliation and another one punched him to the stomach. Taste of blood filled his mouth and for a moment it felt like his insides were bursting aflame.

It was weird, Yoongi thought, how the survival instincts would still kick in, despite of him not caring if he lives or dies. Fighting with the nauseous feeling he managed to pull his right hand free, but before he could do anything, he was turned onto his front, face slammed to the ground, and his hand was twisted painfully to his back. Something sharp hit his left side. Maybe he blacked out for a bit, because next moment he remembered, the heavy weight of his attackers was lifted from him, but his head, shoulders and sides felt like burning. Something strange was there in the chilly night air – something thick and swirling, even darker than darkness around him. It reminded him deep caves and old cellars somehow, dreary and depressing, but far more alive and… dangerous?

Carefully Yoongi lifted his head and saw that the robbers were indeed left him, because they were busy fighting with a man in a long black coat. The stranger did not have any weapons, but his opponents still seemed to be in trouble. One of them was already lying motionless on the wet road while the man wrenched a knife from the hand of the second enemy, then turned around and with the same swift move stabbed the third attacker straight to the heart.

Yoongi blinked his eyes slowly, trying to get rid of the red and black dots dancing before his eyes. When he looked back to the fighters again, his unexpected saviour had grabbed the last standing man by the hair and pushed him to the pavement, face down. The man let out a long pained cry, followed by the string of curses. He was kicking and tossing so violently that Yoongi wondered how the other managed to hold him down, but the mysterious stranger did not appear to have any problem with that. To be honest, it did not even seem to be a lot of effort for him.

Without releasing his grip the man put his knee to the other one’s neck and pulled his head up suddenly. A shrill cry rang in the air for a moment, more animal than human, but after another forceful pull from the stranger the voice broke abruptly like cut off with a knife. A sickening crack was heard, the struggling body went limp and everything was quiet again. Only the rain was padding softly to the ground.

The man dropped a knife he was still holding and approached Yoongi. That odd feeling from earlier, dark and frightening, increased gradually. It felt like he was washed by night black waves, again and again, every wave carrying him deeper into the ocean. Yoongi’s stomach was turning and the voice of the last dead robber was still ringing in his ears. However, as he sensed, the mood had shifted a bit. It was not so appalling than before; more like seducing, fascinating, eerily attracting… Of course, that might as well have been the effects of alcohol and concussion. Maybe he was still unconscious and hallucinating.

The stranger’s eyes bore into him and Yoongi shivered. His gaze was sharp and bottomless – Yoongi felt like standing before a steel blade and falling into an abyss at the same time. With a great effort he tore his eyes away and let them land to the man’s face. It was faint in the dim glow of a distant street lamp, but he managed to make out soft features, cute button nose and full lips. The man had a flaming red hair, Yoongi noticed, stark contrast to his smooth pale skin. He looked like a doll, a fragile and lovely porcelain doll, but the delicate looks somehow made his piercing stare even scarier.

“Can you stand up?” the stranger asked and Yoongi was really surprised at the sound of his voice. It was husky and high, a weird yet oddly endearing mixture between a teenage boy and a grown-up man, far too young and innocent for these sword-like eyes.

Yoongi made a move to stand, but the sharp pain in his left side was too much and with a strangled cry he fell back.

“Oh no,” the man exclaimed, “might be worse than I thought. Shall I take you to the hospital?”

Yoongi shook his head. “I hate hospitals.” His mouth was dry and speaking was quite an effort. “Want to go home.”

“Hey, you can barely… no, don’t stand up! Ah, alright, alright, let me help you at least.”

Grinding his teeth, Yoongi tried to rise from the ground again. No, he decided, he could not be seeing things, because no dream or hallucination could hurt like that. The stranger stepped to him and carefully helped him to his feet. He was a bit taller than Yoongi – not that it would have meant a lot. His hands were cold.

“So,” the man said with his airy and boyish voice, “your place or mine?”

He did not seem like someone who had just killed three men almost with his bare hands. He looked calmly at Yoongi, just as asking time or discussing the weather, a corner of his mouth slightly turned upwards. The barely-there smile contrasted a little with his worried frown, like he could not decide what to do with his face.

“You…” Yoongi found it difficult to talk. The adrenaline made his head light, but the pain mixed with sudden cold fear caused his stomach to roll and reel. He swallowed heavily to force down the bile rising in his throat. “How could you…“

“Excuse me?” The other one looked a bit confused.

“How could you take them down like that?”

“Ah,” the man smiled shyly. “I have a black belt in taekwondo.”

“That…” Yoongi slurred, trying desperately not to throw up, “that wasn’t any taekwondo. ‘Twas a fuckin’ magic.” Almost against his will his eyes landed on the bloody and unnaturally twisted bodies on the road. Something snapped inside, the world seemed to tilt to the side and Yoongi bent over, vomiting right there on the pavement, next to his dead attackers.

“Whoa, take it easy,” the stranger fretted, holding him up and rubbing his back gently. “Lets go. Shall we head to yours or mine?”

“I – I” Yoongi had to cling to the other, because his legs were wobbling and his hurt head was spinning like crazy. “I live… almost here. A five minute walk.” A warm wetness was slowly dribbling from his brow down the cheeks.

The man gulped, his eyes widening. “You’re… you’re bleeding.” Something feral was suddenly in his voice and gaze and Yoongi felt himself shudder again, both terrified and fascinated. Before he could do anything, the stranger had leaned over him and licked away the small trickle of blood.

Yoongi stared at him, dumbfounded. “What the…”

“Sorry! Sorry,” the man apologised, sounding somewhat bashful. “It was just… you were bleeding and I panicked a bit and… sorry.”

Yoongi waved his hand. “Whatever. Shall we go?”

The other one nodded. “Can you walk? I can carry you.”

“I am…” Yoongi stumbled and gripped the man’s hand tighter, “… perfectly able to walk, thank you very much, sir.”

The man chuckled at that and damn if this high-pitched bright sound was not one of the sexiest things Yoongi had ever heard… no, he shook his head, this was probably still the alcohol. Or the injuries and blood loss. Or all of the above.

“You can call me hyung, by the way,” he remarked cheerily, “bet I’m older than you. So, where do you live?”

Later Yoongi could not remember much of his way to home. It hurt to walk, he recalled. He stumbled on his feet countless times and would have fallen, but the stranger held him tightly, staring him from the bottom of his dark sharp eyes. Once Yoongi felt the little wound on his brow opening again and when he rose his hand to sweep away the blood, he could have sworn that there was something red flashing in the man’s gaze, but the other only swallowed heavily and turned his face away.

They had to choose the stairs, because the elevator was not working – again. It was an old building, with worn staircase and peeling paint on the walls. A few lamps in the corridor were flickering.

“Sorry,” Yoongi mumbled. “It looks horrible, I know.” The city administration had wanted to demolish the house for a while now, but there were some pretty stubborn old ladies who refused to move anywhere.

The man laughed again. “I like it,” he said. “I like old buildings. There’s a lovely sense of decay in places like this.” He suddenly looked at Yoongi, eyes almost soft for a moment. “You like it too, don’t you?”

Yes, maybe it was why Yoongi lived here. The rent was cheap, of course, but the withered, glum feeling was also one of the reasons why he had not moved away, despite of Seokjin’s constant nagging.

“Yeah,” he only answered. “By the way, I haven’t cleaned my place for ages. Try not to trip over anything.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” the man assured with a strange glint in his eyes. “I won’t.”

It took a bit time for Yoongi to find the keys, but finally he managed to open the door. “Okay, hyung, come in.”

The man did not move, but halted on the doorstep. “You call me inside?”

“Of course.” Yoongi frowned, glancing back to the stranger. “You came all the way here, might just as well to drop by. Come now.”

“But you barely know me,” the other smiled.

Yoongi shrugged. “I don’t care. And you helped me earlier.”

“So, I may come in?”

“What?” Yoongi tried to laugh, but his hurting side brought it to an abrupt end. “I have already said it ten times or something. Shall I repeat myself once more?”

“Two times,” the man corrected him.

“Huh?”

“You have called me in two times.”

Yoongi just rolled his eyes, totally unimpressed. “So what? Want me to call you once more?”

“Please,” the stranger answered sweetly, but there was something odd under this sweetness that sounded almost like a growl. And Yoongi had to grab his arm again, because he could not feel his knees for a moment – maybe the exhaustion of the evening had finally started to kick in.

“Come in,” he said and almost regretted it a second later, because the moment the man stepped to his room, it felt like standing in front of a quickly approaching thunderstorm. The air suddenly seemed to grow thicker and darker, dim lamp in the hallway like a firefly in a misty forest. Even if it was fairly warm, Yoongi could sense chills travelling down his spine. But the quiet, sweet allure emerging from the man drew him hopelessly towards the stranger. Was this how a mouse felt before a slowly dancing snake? Captivated in that porcelain skin, soft yet sharp features, those deep dark eyes…

“You are shaking.”

“Ah?” Yoongi blinked slowly, trying to clear his head from the haze.

“Can you stand up? You are shaking pretty terribly. And… oh… your side is bleeding a lot.“

With quite an effort Yoongi tore his gaze from the other’s face and let it travel downwards. His coat had slipped aside and the once white t-shirt was soaked with blood. “Oh, shit…“

“Indeed,” the other agreed. “Let’s get you on that couch over there.“

“No,” Yoongi tried to argue. “I want to brush my teeth.”

“We should stop your bleeding first.”

“I want to brush my teeth,” Yoongi stubbornly insisted. He could still feel the gross aftertaste of vomit in his mouth and was worried that he might throw up again. “I want to do it now.”

The man only sighed at that and carefully helped Yoongi to the bathroom. He had to hold him up the whole time, because Yoongi’s head was spinning again and his knees were turned to water.

Hurriedly Yoongi brushed his teeth and splashed some water onto his face. “Wow, I look even more horrible than usual.”

“Agreed,” the other smirked. “Even if I don’t know how you usually look like. All right, your teeth are clean enough. Let’s get you out of here and to that couch.”

Before Yoongi could do anything, the man had scooped him into his arms and carried him to a worn couch in the living room. “Where is your first-aid kit? Bandages, disinfectant?“

“In the… in the bathroom.” The injuries had not felt severe before, but now, when he had actually seen a bit of them, Yoongi could not help but feel a little light-headed. Hopefully, when he was still able to walk, his attacker’s weapon – knife, probably – would not have touched any vital organs.

The stranger was back at a record time, carrying bandages, wet cloth, paper towels and a bottle of disinfectant. Carefully he took off Yoongi’s coat and tried to peel his shirt off as well, but was stopped, because Yoongi could not rise his hands high enough to actually remove the clothing.

“Sorry,” the man said. “I hope it was not your favourite shirt.” With that he ripped the fabric in half as easily as it had been a sheet of paper. Yoongi would have been surprised at that if he had not been so tired of everything.

The man swept away the excess blood with a wet cloth and disinfected the wound. Yoongi screwed his eyes shut and grit his teeth, because the disinfectant hurt like hell. Pale cold fingers danced lightly over his skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“I’ll be quick,” the other murmured apologetically. “You were lucky, it seems to be only flesh wound. Nothing too bad.”

Yoongi opened his eyes slowly and looked at the man. His nose was scrunched cutely and the small crease between his elegant eyebrows had deepened again. But his eyes – Yoongi gasped frightenedly – were downright terrifying. They were gleaming – no, burning – with a light as red as his fire-like hair. He looked at Yoongi like a wolf would be staring deer, like a famished man would gaze the food. Like he was starving and Yoongi was the last meal in the entire world. And no, it was not romantic or lustful in any sense. There was pure hunger in those flaming orbs, primal and desperate.

The man should have heard his gasp because he slowly tore his eyes away from Yoongi’s cleaned wound and looked at his face. The air seemed to thicken again, feeling heavy and suffocating. Yoongi wanted to scream, wanted to run away, dig a hole in the ground and hide there, but something both dreary and fascinating held him in place. And still, in the middle of his terror, he felt a surge of pure, unadulterated joy flowing through his very core. He could not remember when was the last time he had been so alive, so wonderfully frightened, so strongly exited.

“You look like you want to eat me alive,” Yoongi finally managed to whisper.

The man did not answer. Only gulped and shut his eyes to open them again a second later and gaze even more deeply Yoongi’s face.

“Who… who are you?” Yoongi stuttered. “What do… what do you want?”

The stranger slowly shook his head, smiling almost sympathetically. “Oh, little human…”

“Who are you then?” Yoongi demanded uneasily. “A… fuckin’ vampire?”

The man threw his head back and laughed, his high-pitched voice ringing boyishly. And just like that the spellbound was broken and Yoongi could breathe freely again. That laugh was absolutely contagious, only his hurting side held him back from laughing along.

“And what if I am?” the man finally asked.

“Huh?”

“What if I really am a vampire?”

Yoongi smirked. “Come on, hyung, eat me then. Bite me, suck me dry.”

“That –” the man wanted to say something, but he was laughing too hard to continue. “That should be the worst pick-up line I’ve ever heard.”

“Oh, I’ve heard worse,” Yoongi countered. ““I call you illegirl, because you’re too beautiful to be legal.” My friend likes that kind of jokes.”

“No, yours was more awful,” the other argued. “That last one was pretty creative.”

“Glad Seokjin didn’t hear you,” Yoongi mumbled. “It’s already hard enough to shut him up with his terrible puns.”

The man smiled and continued to bandage Yoongi’s wound. His smile was warm, Yoongi had noticed, like a golden midday sun. It started from his eyes and then he tended to lick his lips right before his whole face lit up.

“What would you do if I were a vampire?” the stranger suddenly asked again and moved from Yoongi’s side to his shoulder. A smaller scratch was bleeding there, not deep, but badly bruised.

He was kind of odd, Yoongi had to admit, but he was not absolutely sure how much of this was real and what parts were the product of his alcohol-induced imagination. The inhuman strength had to be true, because here he was, safe and alive, and the robbers were apparently dead. But then there was that alluring and dreadful air around him. It could have easily been Yoongi’s own fantasy. However, he had been drunk a lot of times, but never had he felt something imaginary so strongly and clearly. To be honest, it had been a long time when he had had such a vivid feelings.

And Yoongi had called him in three times.

He had called him in. Not once, but three times.

And when you call a vampire into your home three times…

“Vampires aren’t real,” Yoongi whispered.

The man looked at him with a little curiosity. “You are scared?”

“No,” Yoongi lied. “You can’t be a bloody vampire, hyung, they don’t exist!”

“Okay,” the other one did not argue anymore. “But what if I were? What would you do?”

Yoongi tried to shrug his shoulders. It hurt. “Would I have a lot of choice? I would be dead anyway.”

“I won’t kill you.”

Yoongi snorted. “Yeah, thanks for that.”

“You are not afraid of death.” That was not a question.

“I…” Yoongi blinked his eyes, trying to think. “I… yeah, I’m not afraid. Of death.” The strange man himself was another story. “I think. Don’t know. Don’t care.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“You don’t care if you are alive or dead?”

“Well,” Yoongi pondered, “you… you have to die anyway. Eventually. And… and the death is pretty much longer than life. I mean, you are dead much longer than alive. Namjoon told me once – my friend, Namjoon, some kind of philosophy nerd – anyway, he had read from somewhere or heard from someone that interesting thought. Death is the main activity of human existence – or something like this.” Yoongi chuckled nervously. “Do I make any sense?”

“Perfectly,” the other assured. “And still, don’t you want to enjoy the only part of your whole existence that has some meaning – even fast and fleeting as it is?”

Yoongi shrugged again. Or tried to.

“Ah, you silly little human.” The smile was bittersweet this time, without that sexy flick of tongue. “Tell me, what happened to you?”

Usually Yoongi did not like to talk about this. No, he had not had any horrible childhood traumas, he was just keen on his private space. But this night had been unusual enough in so many ways and chatting with a complete stranger about his depression seemed like the most normal thing to do.

“Nothing happened,” Yoongi finally answered, as the man finished cleaning his shoulder and started to examine his injured brow. “I sometimes wish there was something. I mean, it would be like an explanation… or an excuse why I am like this. Or at least it would give me some kind of starting point what to do with myself. As it is now, it’s just pathetic.”

The other did not answer, but listened attentively.

“It began with anxiety,” Yoongi went on. “And there were some suicidal thoughts… and compulsive behaviour. I really don’t know why it started… I have good parents, a normal childhood… Anyway, I went to see the psychologist and started with my treatment. And… well, it helped me somehow, it made some things better and I don’t have any kind of death wish anymore. But it seems sometimes that I don’t have any feelings left at all.”

The man appeared to be really interested. “So, you can do anything you want without any shame or fear of death?”

Yoongi laughed hollowly. “I don’t want to do anything.”

“Ah,” the other understood, “that’s the case.”

Actually, at the moment Yoongi would have really liked to pull this beautiful stranger to the couch, cuddle with him and gaze forever into his bottomless eyes. But it was a weird thing to want, so he kept quiet.

“Have you tried anything?” the man eventually asked. “Stories, poems, music…?”

“Nah,” Yoongi shook his head. “Not really. I used to play the piano, though. Earlier.”

“Want to play again?”

“I don’t know.” Finally Yoongi gave in to the temptation a bit and fixated his gaze to those deep dark eyes. It was still scary to look into them, but not as terrifying as before. The red flame had diminished to a small glint somewhere far in the bottom. “You tell me, hyung, what’s the use of it anyway?”

“The use of what?” the other asked amusedly. “Playing? Music? Life in general?”

“All of the above.” The depths in those night black orbs seemed to move, swirl together, dance… “I went to the church once, you know. But even if we will get eternal life eventually, what are we going to do with that? Just live and live forever? So what?”

The man was now laughing again. “You should have told that to the pastor! All these nice stories about being good and then getting rewarded with an everlasting life… And now there is one who doesn’t care about the precious prize at all.” He shook his head in mock reprimand. “You poor abandoned child. Thorny will be your road to the holy truth.”

All of a sudden he rose to his feet. “I’ll show you something you may like. Possibly. Maybe. But you have to eat first.”

Yoongi looked at him quizzically. “What are you going to do?”

“You’ll see,” the other one smiled. That was a full smile, with licking his lips and all. “Ah, the kitchen is that way. Hey, your fridge is almost empty! Are you living only on beer and soju or what?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes and made a feeble attempt to rise up. “It’s my kitchen for fuck’s sake! Go away if you don’t like it.”

“Found something!” the man chimed merrily. “Is sandwich okay? And a hot tea?”

“Listen, you don’t have to…” Yoongi started. Finally he managed to stand on his shaking legs and take some careful steps towards the kitchen. The stranger might had cleaned and bandaged his wounds, but he was still aching all over. By tomorrow he will be littered with bruises. “Hyung, you don’t have to cook for me, I’ll manage by myself.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to cook,” the cheerful voice called from the other room. “I can’t cook if my life depended on it. I’m just making you a sandwich and some tea.”

Yoongi staggered to the kitchen and sat heavily down to the table. His guest was piling cheese on the bread and pouring it over with some burger sauce. “This will have to do, I really couldn’t find anything more.”

“Thanks,” Yoongi mumbled. “Have some for yourself too if you want.”

“No, thank you,” the man declined and grinned widely. “Still waiting for your blood.”

Yoongi snorted and stuffed his face full of bread and cheese.

“So, tell me, pastor,” he absent-mindedly continued their previous talk after some time had passed, “what is the great meaning of this all?”

“The great meaning, huh?” the man mused, running his fingers through his crimson hair. “I think God was bored. Not bad kind of bored, but a little restless. You know, when everything is all right, but you still want some kind of change. Maybe he wished to talk to someone else than his own self. To love someone besides himself. So he created us and is trying to rise our minds high enough to hold some kind of intelligent conversation. But there is also the law of inertia which basically means that every object is as lazy as it could be. Moreover, we have that disturbing free will. And because of this all we are fighting against changes for the better, because it requires effort, and he is constantly trying to make us change without affecting our free will in the process.”

“He must have been really bored,” Yoongi concluded, sipping his tea.

“Or really stubborn,” the other added. “It’s like writing a song, I guess, that refuses to come out the way you want it. But the harder it is the more you become attached until you just have to polish it to perfection.”

Yoongi finished his sandwich and drank the last of his tea. “And what will the song get for that?”

“Eternal peace with itself? Everlasting happiness? How does it sound?”

“Like ‘let’s go and check out that thing you wanted to show me’,” Yoongi answered, rising slowly. “Uh… can you bring me my coat? And a shirt? Is your thing far?”

“Not very far,” the man replied. “A couple of blocks from here. Don’t worry, I’ll help you.”

 

* * *

 

Finally Yoongi ended up on the man’s back, arms loosely wrapped around his shoulders and nose in the soft tufts of scarlet hair. A light drizzle of rain had begun to fall from the sky, too mild to actually wet anything. Mist-like sheen of droplets clang to their clothes, hair and skin. Yoongi’s mystery stranger-slowly-turning-to-almost-something-like-a-friend already had pretty pale skin, but when the street lamps reflected from his damp face, it was glowing like a pallid moon in the hazy night.

“So,” Yoongi drawled, “if you really are a vampire, hyung, how old are you then?”

“Oh, I’m fairly young,” the man admitted. “Not even a century. I’ll be eighty-three in December.”

“Eighty three? Shouldn’t I call you ahjussi then?”

“Don’t you dare,” the other mock-growled.

Yoongi decided to play along. “And what have you been doing meanwhile? Luring strangers to your place to kill and eat them?”

“Ah, no, I like to eat outside,” the man smirked. “I’ve been travelling, singing, dancing, learning languages…”

“How many languages can you speak?”

“Not many. Korean of course, Japanese, Chinese, English… and Kenyan.” There was a hint of smile in his voice.

“Kenyan? Is it some African language?”

“It is,” the man confirmed.

“And how does it sound?”

The other giggled amusedly. “Tachukoderu wieru bruetburoughwa bambaya! It means ‘It was nice to see you, goodbye!’”

“No way,” Yoongi cackled. “Agh, my side hurts when I laugh!”

“It is a real Kenyan,” the man insisted, grinning like a little boy. “Kachateru techoku brierudwa… goriedrouwa bambaya!”

“Stop, stop,” Yoongi pleaded. “Okay, let’s say that I believe you, but please stop. I can’t laugh right now.”

“The vampire poison works as a painkiller, by the way.”

“No.” Yoongi wiggled a bit, trying to make himself more comfortable. “I’m not drunk enough for this.”

“Good,” the man smiled. “It has bad side effects when mixed with alcohol.”

Yoongi shook his head. “Okay, okay. Tell me something more. Something about the times when you were younger. The… I don’t know… the war for example? Were you in Korea then?”

There was a long silence after his question. The traffic noises and splattering steps of occasional passers-by merged with a barely audible dribble of falling rain, creating soft erratic music. Sometimes a gust of wind would blow past them.

Finally Yoongi’s companion took a long breath and nodded slowly. “I was,” he said. “I was in Korea. Only sixteen years old when the war started… and still human.”

“Oh.”

“After the war had ended… and I had become a vampire – but this is a story for another time – I found myself wondering a lot about life and death and the meaning of it all. I know it is very different from your experience, but when you spoke to me earlier, in your place, I almost felt like talking with a younger self of me.”

“And did you find your answer?”

“Maybe,” the man replied after a short pause. “The same one I told you in your kitchen. This life as a grinding stone. We as the unfinished songs. Maybe we are not meant to feel true peace and happiness unless we have become what we are meant to be. Maybe it is not even possible to feel anything genuinely good before this. Before you have dug deeply into yourself, learnt to really know who you are, accepted yourself, forgiven to yourself… and then, in the centre of everything will you find your true self, the one who links you to the great Transcendence, the one you are destined to be before the beginning of time. But it is not enough to just know it. You must understand it – not only with your conscious mind, but your heart. The divine cognition, a _lumen gloriae_.” He shook his head and laughed shortly. “Sorry. Maybe I have read too much Joseph Campbell and Carl Gustav Jung.”

It was too much all together and even though it seemed to Yoongi that he understood it on some bizarre level, he could not give any kind of answer to this.

“I like that last name,” he uttered instead. “Jung, I mean. It sounds almost like my own name.”

“Ah,” the man smiled. “Yoongi then?” He turned to a dark cross-street and stopped in front of a small closed shop. “We have arrived, by the way.”

“Here?” Yoongi was surprised. “It’s closed.”

“I know,” the man remarked. “Hold on tight!”

Before Yoongi could question anything, his mysterious companion had hopped onto the low window sill. Using the drainpipe next to it he quickly climbed to the roof and run to a small roof window, balancing himself with a perfect ease.

“Wait, wait, stop,” Yoongi babbled, clinging tightly onto the other. “Hyung? What are you doing? Where are we going? What if we fall? How the bloody hell can you climb so fast?”

“Don’t worry,” the man laughed and opened the tiny window on the roof. “We won’t fall. See!” He sat on the edge of the window, put his feet into the darkness underneath and jumped. The sudden leap was accompanied by an embarrassingly high-pitched cry from Yoongi.

“Everything is okay,” the other reassured him, closing the window and walking over the floor in total darkness. “I have done it many times.” He pulled open a door Yoongi could not see and climbed down from some kind of stairs. Then he opened another door and stepped through it. “Welcome to the kingdom of slumbering stories!”

It was a bookstore, Yoongi noticed in the dim yellowish light coming from somewhere before them. A labyrinth of long shelves rose before them and the dry air smelled like wood and old paper. The silence that covered the room as a pile of light veils, content and unperturbed, seemed to hum softly to itself.

“Why,” Yoongi asked as he was gently set down onto his feet, “why do you call it a kingdom of slumbering stories?”

“Because you have to read a story to wake it,” the other simply responded. “But I didn’t take you here for them. Come!” 

He led Yoongi through the maze of bookshelves to a clearer part of the store. A lone street lamp cast its yellowish glow through the window, lighting up… a small piano in the corner of the room.

“No,” Yoongi said and took a couple of steps back. “No, no, no. I won’t play it.”

“You don’t have to,” the man soothed him. “I’ll do it. I sometimes come here just to play. You can sit down and listen if you want.”

Tentatively Yoongi sat on the piano bench next to the other, his brow furrowed and nose scrunched up, shoulders tensed and hands between knees. The wide bench fitted seamlessly into the room, with its curved legs and striped upholstery, looking more like a small backless baroque divan. In the golden light of street lamp Yoongi’s companion also seemed to be from some long-gone age, an ancient statue of white gold, red hair a crown of glossy rubies on his head.

The man glanced at Yoongi and smiled slightly. “Cute. Like a little fairy.”

Yoongi felt the sudden blush flaming on his cheeks. He opened his mouth to say something – at least a mumbled “I’m not cute” –, but the man put his fingers on the keys and all words flew from Yoongi’s mind.

He was not a master pianist by any means, but he played well. Really well. He loved the piano; that was apparent. And the instrument sang under his fingers, it was ringing and echoing and trilling. And just like the man himself, there was something enthralling in his play that Yoongi could not put his finger on. Or maybe he had gone too long without nor playing neither properly listening his once favourite.

And then the man began to sing.

Yoongi had waited for his singing voice to be boyishly high and husky, just like he was talking, but there was an unexpected fullness and depth underneath. It vibrated warmly in the silent air like a cello, it flowed and melted as a liquid honey. And sometimes, just for a moment, a low growl almost broke through the smooth surface only to disappear again. Yoongi was captivated.

The song itself was about the king and his young son. The king who was afraid of the evil world locked the prince into the castle to keep him from everything. But the prince was still dreaming and longing to see the world and find his destiny, his golden star in the sky.

The music melted into dim air, it became one with the soft light of the street lamp and the singer himself, with his ivory-golden skin and black bottomless eyes, was a guide from the heavenly stars, sent down to earth to look for the lost wayfarers. And for a moment – for one fleeting moment – Yoongi thought that maybe, maybe he had understood something. A threshold of eternity, a glimpse of everlasting light.

“Who are you?” Yoongi whispered.

The last mellow chord trembled and faded into the dusk.

A delicate smile.

“I’ve already told you,” the man replied, “but you still doesn’t seem to believe.”

“A vampire?” The other slightly nodded his head. “Right now I’d believe anything you could ever say. A vampire, a fairy, an angel – whatever. But what’s your name?”

“Ah,” the man smiled again. “Junsu.”

“Junsu,” Yoongi quietly repeated. “You really look like it. Junsu.”

“Oh, stop,” his companion grinned shyly. “It’s an old joke already.”

“But what do you want from me?” Yoongi went on. “Why did you bring me here?”

Junsu quieted and looked into dark air behind the window. Golden flecks of light were dancing in his eyes.

“To be honest,” he finally began to speak again, “my first thought was that you will run away as soon as I am finished with those robbers who attacked you. I know I have this frightening effect for humans. Then I could have fed on them. But you were injured worse than it seemed – and also more brave than it seemed. Or you just did not care. Seeing this I thought that I would take you to your home, wait for you to fall asleep and then… no-no, I wouldn’t have killed you, never! Honestly, I may be a vampire but I do not kill innocent people. And it does not require a lot of blood to keep me going… I mean, the more it is, the better, but I can manage with very little. At morning you wouldn’t even feel any different, maybe only a bit more tired than usual. But then we were talking and… and I realised I couldn’t… not without your permission.”

“So you want to drink my blood?”

“Don’t worry about this,” Junsu insisted. “Let’s get you home and I’ll take a look at those idiots I killed earlier.”

Yoongi could not help but wonder. Those full lips against his neck… and hot breath. Or was it cold like the other’s hands? Then sharp canines slowly penetrating through his skin… Blissful mixture of pain and delight.

“You may bite me, hyung,” Yoongi spoke without thinking.

“What?” Junsu was gaping at him, his narrow cat eyes now big and round, eyebrows risen high and sweet lips parted a little. Yoongi blushed to the roots of his hair, but decided that now was not a time to back out.

“I said you may bite me,” he repeated. “I bet I’m a better qualify food than those bastards.” He smirked, seeing the other smiling. “Wanna know what’s on the menu? Me ‘n’ u. Or my blood in you, in our case.”

Junsu’s eyes went even bigger, he made a weird choking noise and then he was laughing, high and airy, bending forward and clutching the edge of the piano.

“And you – you berated your friend for bad pick-up lines,” he panted between peals of laughter.

“That was one of his favourites,” Yoongi snorted. “If it wasn’t him I wouldn’t even know it.”

Junsu straightened and wiped his eyes with the back of a hand. “I like the menu. I’m really tempted to order. And not only your _blood_ in me.”

Now it was Yoongi’s turn to choke on his spit. Junsu laughed some more.

“So, are you sure about that?” he asked suddenly.

“What?” Yoongi was too busy trying to clear his mind from inappropriate images.

“You’d let me to… feed on you? Drink your blood? I’m not joking, if you gave me your permission, I’ll really do it. And if you decide halfway that you don’t want it, I may not be able to stop.”

Something dark and heavy coiled up again in Yoongi. There was curiosity, however, and an odd desire that outweighed the fear.

“You won’t kill me?” Yoongi checked just in case.

“Never,” the other assured.

“And does it… does it hurt?”

Junsu grinned wickedly. “It does. Not too much, though. And I have a strange suspicion that you may be the type to actually like it.”

Yoongi did not affirm nor deny it. He only licked his suddenly very dry lips and took a deep breath. “Okay. You may… go on with it… or whatever.”

If the sinister smirk looked frightening enough then the hungry flame in Junsu’s gaze sent cold shivers of dread down Yoongi’s back. The man’s night black eyes seemed to darken even more, the eerie abyss was twirling and waving like a stormy sea and a glimmer of red flashed in the bottomless depth. Cold fingers tangled into his hair, holding him in place. Rosy lips parted slowly and Yoongi saw white canines growing longer, even longer, as Junsu leaned closer to his exposed neck.

“Wa-wait!” Yoongi spluttered. “Gimme a- a second.”

Junsu growled darkly and dug his nails into Yoongi’s scalp. His eyes were almost glazed over, pupils out of focus. The younger tried to sit still but despite his efforts he was shuddering uncontrollably.

“I warned you, human,” the red-haired man hissed.

“So-sorry,” Yoongi panted. “Holy shit, you really are a vampire.”

Something akin to fondness settled into the other’s features, but it did not erase the low growl from his voice. “Look here, little human. Look straight into my eyes. Don’t think about anything. Just feel.”

Yoongi tore his gaze from sharp fangs and glanced timidly into his companion’s eyes.

“Better,” Junsu whispered, lips moving tantalizingly. “And now I’m going to kiss you.”

Yoongi did not have any time to process the words before those crimson lips were on his and all thoughts abandoned his mind for a long sweet moment. They were soft and smooth like rose petals, not as cold as fingers in his hair, but rather cool and somewhat refreshing. Unconsciously Yoongi parted his mouth and earned a high-pitched chuckle for that.

“Oh, an obedient one, I like it,” Junsu murmured amusedly before diving back into the kiss. A cool tongue slipped between Yoongi’s lips and further into his mouth, licking, swirling and prodding. The human tried to respond as fervently, but all of his strength seemed to have been knocked out from him. His lids were growing heavy and his eyes slipped shut against his will. Junsu’s skin against him was cold, but Yoongi felt warm waves washing over him again and again. His cheeks were burning, his hands and legs were trembling – not with fear this time, but because of pure, clear feeling. He whimpered helplessly into Junsu’s mouth and the vampire hummed lowly.

Finally Junsu pulled back a little, leaving Yoongi gasping for air. He scattered some feather-light kisses onto the younger man’s heated cheeks, bit gently his jaw and nibbled his lower lip. Yoongi’s hands found their way to Junsu’s neck, grabbing shorter hair on his nape. That action earned him a husky growl and a stronger bite to his lip.

“You taste so sweet,” Junsu muttered and traced Yoongi’s lips with his canines. Then, without any warning, he planted his mouth onto Yoongi’s and kissed the dazed human again. He was more eager than before, nibbling, sucking and plunging his tongue deep into the other’s mouth. Yoongi could not do anything but moan breathlessly and hold onto the man’s neck for dear life.

“You like it?” Junsu whispered between kisses. “Or should I stop?”

Yoongi forced his eyes open and met the vampire’s gaze. It was still hungry, but there was also lust dancing in those bottomless eyes. “Don’t… don’t stop,” he pleaded, voice surprisingly weak and trembling. He was not usually like this, had never been like this, but there was this dark allure that surrounded Junsu, flowed from him in waves, pressed Yoongi heavily to the ground and at the same time wrapped him into the softest blanket.

Junsu glanced down, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “Well, it seems that at least a part of you is quite enjoying this.”

Yoongi looked at the same direction and if he was already blushing before, now his face almost resembled the colour of Junsu’s hair. He had not even noticed earlier, but he was fully hard, straining uncomfortably against his jeans. Then, however, he lifted his eyes a little and could hardly suppress a snicker, when he caught a glimpse of Junsu’s high-waisted leather pants. “At least I’m not the only one.”

“Oh, you’re not,” Junsu agreed, his smile sugary, but voice suddenly rumbling like a distant thunder. And too quickly for Yoongi to realise – again – he was lifted up and turned around, so that he was directly facing the other while straddling the piano bench. The vampire hovered over him and pushed him lower, down to his back, face so close that Yoongi could feel the other’s breath, chilly against his heated skin. Junsu balanced himself on one foot and thrust his knee between Yoongi’s legs.

The younger’s gasp turned to a quiet moan, when Junsu proceeded to move his leg, so that his toned thigh was rubbing against Yoongi’s crotch. He adopted to small circles, rather teasing than actually touching, drawing more soft noises from Yoongi.

“Pretty,” the vampire breathed adoringly. “Fair and pale like – ah! – like one of us. But our kind can never have those lovely rosy cheeks. And you sing so beautifully for me.”

“Fuck…” Yoongi mewled, clutching onto Junsu’s shoulders. “I – ah – Junsu-hyung… fu- ooh!”

“And it is such an interesting thing,” the other continued, “that you are so petite and fragile, but you have that low voice. You don’t know what – oh, yes… – what it does to me.” Junsu let go of Yoongi’s hair to open the zipper of his coat and push the clothing over the human’s shoulders. “And…” he put his mouth onto Yoongi’s shirt and gave his nipple a long wet kiss through the fabric, “you look like a doll, but curse like a drunken sailor.”

“Holy fuck,” Yoongi gasped, confirming Junsu’s words.

It was not his first time with another man – there had been a few encounters in the past and even some pretty interesting experiments with Namjoon –, but never had he felt anything so intensely. Junsu was glowing golden and red in the dim light of street lamp, his dark pupils were blown, mouth half-open and the expression on his face an odd yet beautiful mix of bliss and hunger. But in the bottom of those black pools was something so soft and tender that Yoongi had to fight back the lump rising in his throat.

“You should see yourself,” Junsu spoke quietly, like he had been afraid of ruining the ethereal air around them. “Afraid, confused, but so, so eager for me. I almost feel bad for frightening you earlier. My little human… my angel… my golden star.”

“Not afraid anymore,” Yoongi choked out and blinked his eyes. “But you… I…” Junsu moved his thigh in a particularly delightful way and Yoongi threw his head back, words giving way to moans and whimpers. “Too… too many clothes.”

“Ah,” Junsu purred. “Well, let’s do something about that.” And only a second later an undignified yelp left Yoongi’s mouth, because there were cold fingers running over his stomach and ribs. Junsu had rucked his t-shirt up and was raking his nails over the smooth naked skin.

“Sorry,” the vampire said, but it did not sound much like an apology. “Could you lift your arms?”

Yoongi did what the other told and let Junsu pull the shirt over his head. Junsu attacked his newly bared flesh with the same hunger he had devoured his mouth earlier. Yoongi felt goosebumps rising and shivers wrecking his entire body, when those soft lips glided over his skin, accompanied by a cool tongue and sometimes sharp teeth. Junsu left several light bites on his stomach and hips, sucked some darker marks right above the waistband of his jeans and dipped his tongue into Yoongi’s navel.

“Aah!” the man exclaimed and kicked out, the feeling of a cold tongue contrasting sharply with the flame burning his insides. His arousal was almost painful by now, pressing tightly against his jeans. “Junsu… hyung… please…”

“Please what?” the other asked with faux sweetness and moved higher to kiss Yoongi’s nipples. He swirled his tongue around the pink bud and bit into it gently. “Sing me some more, my little human.”

Yoongi’s head fell back again and he keened high and long. Blood was roaring in his ears and black dots were obscuring his vision. He pawed desperately Junsu’s long black coat and fumbled with the buttons.

“You want me to take it off?” Junsu chuckled.

“Please…”

Slowly Junsu opened the buttons, one after another, but though he attempted to be a damn tease, Yoongi was secretly glad for the time he got to clear his head a little. However, when Junsu finally shook the thick fabric from his shoulders, revealing lacy silk shirt, Yoongi was so riled up that he tore the thin cloth open, ripping accidentally off several buttons, and jammed his leg between the other’s thighs. A rumbling moan echoed in the silent air and the vampire almost fell onto Yoongi, catching himself at the last moment. Strong muscles under the silken fabric were quivering.

“By the moon and stars,” Junsu whimpered, suddenly weak for a moment. But he gathered himself quickly and latched onto Yoongi’s lips, drawing the other into bruising kiss. Yoongi felt the elder lick into the hot cavern of his mouth, suckle on his tongue, bite and tear his lower lip… Finally he pulled back a little and lapped at Yoongi’s abused lip, growling softly. The human ran his tongue over the raw flesh and found that Junsu had drawn blood.

“Sweet,” the vampire mumbled and caught the bleeding lip between his teeth again, sucking carefully, as not to hurt Yoongi too much. “So sweet…”

“Hyung,” Yoongi pleaded as well as he could, with his lower lip in the other’s mouth. One of his hands was tangled into Junsu’s hair and the other was clumsily fiddling with the button of his jeans.

Junsu looked at him with glazed eyes and blinked slowly. “Ah,” he finally understood and lifted himself a little to allow Yoongi better access to his jeans.

Yoongi almost sobbed of relief when the button and zipper were undone and the painful pressure from his throbbing arousal was removed. Junsu ran his cold palm over Yoongi’s stomach, causing him to shiver again, and hooked his thumb beneath the waistband of the younger’s trousers. Gaze suddenly full of mischief, he inched the fabric over Yoongi’s crotch and wrapped his chilly fingers around the man’s freed cock.

“Argh… fuck!” Yoongi shouted, trembling so violently that had it not been Junsu’s other hand holding him still, he would have fallen from the piano bench. “Hyung, what the…”

“Shh,” Junsu breathed, nibbling on Yoongi’s jaw and ears.

“It’s fucking cold,” Yoongi complained. But despite of the icy feeling his pulsating member was standing as proudly as ever. And he could not say that the shudders wrecking his body were only because of the sudden cold.

“You don’t like it?” Junsu pumped his hand for a few times, smearing the wet precome all over Yoongi’s length. With a flick of his wrist he sent the other into a spiralling bliss, wringing a long loud moan out of Yoongi’s throat. The vampire smiled smugly and repeated the delightful movement. “Thought so.”

“Hyung…” Yoongi mewled, raking his nails over Junsu’s silk-covered back, down to the elder’s round butt. “Junsu-hyung, I’m… aah, fuck…” Through the hot-cold waves flowing over him he vaguely registered that Junsu was now rolling his hips against Yoongi’s thigh with slow and shaky movements. He was moaning against Yoongi’s ear, softly and brokenly. There were some words, but Yoongi was too far-gone to understand.

“Please,” Junsu whispered and that finally caught Yoongi’s attention. “Please what?”

Junsu whimpered and nuzzled Yoongi’s neck, grazing it lightly with his sharp fangs.

“Ah,” Yoongi hummed in realisation and tilted his head to the side, glancing the other from under his drooping lids. Junsu gave his neck a tickling, cool lick and looked up to the human. A flaming hunger filled his pupils, but the corners of his eyes were crinkled in a gentle smile. And all of a sudden Yoongi had to fiercely blink and look away, because that intense gaze made his heart to do things he could not even give a name to.

Soft lips attached themselves onto Yoongi’s neck and kissed his trembling skin, whilst Junsu’s hand was still pumping his length. The kiss turned more and more intense, until Yoongi was sure there would be a purple mark left. And then he felt Junsu’s canines against his neck, pressing lightly at first, but with growing force. Dark growls were rumbling in the vampire’s chest and Yoongi released a quivering moan out of the rapidly building pleasure.

Junsu’s fangs pierced the red-kissed skin and Yoongi’s moan turned into a hoarse cry. His eyes were prickling with tears – not because of the sharp ache, but for the sheer, blinding delight it brought. He was quaking, weeping, desperately begging Junsu not to stop, not to stop by any means. Teeth sank lower and Yoongi could feel the vampire swallowing heavily. Junsu’s hand on his cock faltered, but somehow he managed to keep a half-descent rhythm, sending shivers into every fibre of Yoongi’s body. Each long, drawn-out suck was stinging pain that mingled with pleasure, until Yoongi was drown into aching bliss. His head felt light, red dots were dancing in his sight and the whole world around him seemed to fade away. He was the only being in the entire universe, he and Junsu, and everything else was eternal delight.

And then his vision turned white and he released himself with a soundless cry. He was weightless, falling into the bottomless abyss, swimming in the dark night skies. Through the swirling haze he faintly heard a whispered “Sweet star of heaven…”.

 

* * *

 

Slowly Yoongi opened his eyes and was met with a soft gaze. Junsu looked at him, little smile dancing in the corners of his mouth. The vampire’s lips were red with blood and a small trickle was making its way downwards, to his jaw. Yoongi rose his hand – it felt twice as heavy as usual – and wiped the blood away. Junsu ducked down quickly, catching Yoongi’s fingers into his mouth, and sucked as greedily as ever, eyes darkening again for a moment. But then he sighed and let go of the fingers, licking his lips.

“No more,” he purred. “Get away from my mouth or else I might bite you again, sweet thing, and it will be too much for you.”

Yoongi moaned weakly and the vampire’s dark eyes filled with worry. “How are you feeling? Honestly.”

“Good,” Yoongi mumbled, smiling a little. “Amazing,” he added, when Junsu still looked a bit guilty. “Honestly. But what…” Yoongi glanced at the other and gestured downward, “what about you?”

Junsu looked to the side and grinned bashfully. “Don’t… well… don’t underestimate your arousing beauty.”

Yoongi watched him for a moment, taking in his dishevelled hair, gleaming eyes and cheeks that would have been flushed, if it had been able for a vampire. And then he was laughing, tiredly but warmly, and Junsu joined him with his high youthful voice.

“Beautiful,” the elder whispered, growing more serious, and suddenly his face was so close to Yoongi’s that they were almost touching. “May I?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi breathed and Junsu kissed him so tenderly like he was made of glass. He could taste his own blood on the vampire’s lips and Junsu’s fresh-cool flavour under it and something faint, pure and crystalline beneath everything else. Maybe those were the echoes of Junsu’s song that tasted like this.

 

* * *

 

Yoongi woke up because of cold. He rubbed his eyes and looked around in his bedroom. There was someone in his bed, snuggling close to him. But even if there should have been warmer with another person in the bed, it still felt quite chilly under the blanket. Moreover, it seemed as the cold had been coming from Yoongi’s companion himself. The man pulled the blanket down a bit and revealed a tuft of flaming red hair.

“Who the fuck…” Yoongi started sleepily. The other stirred, disturbed by Yoongi’s voice, and yawned audibly. The blanket was moving and suddenly a pale face stuck out of the covers, a pair of round black eyes blinking slowly.

“Aah,” Yoongi hummed, as his head was clearing and the events from last night returned to him one after another. Unconsciously, his hand flew to his neck and, sure thing, he could still feel the little bump of a swollen bite. There was a dull throbbing beneath the skin. “Junsu-hyung?”

“Mmh…” the vampire mumbled. “What time is it?”

“Don’t know,” Yoongi shrugged. “Late morning, probably. Do vampires sleep? I thought you were a bunch of damn insomniacs.”

“Yeah, we do sleep,” Junsu yawned. “Sometimes. Less than humans, though. But I feel especially sleepy after a good meal.”

“Well, I’m getting up,” Yoongi announced, climbing out of bed and realising that Junsu had cleaned him thoroughly. The vampire had also dressed him into a loose-fitting shirt and a pair of sweatpants. “I am hungrier than ever. Do you want some… um, never mind.”

Junsu laughed throatily. “I’d love to. But you must gain some strength first.”

“Will do,” Yoongi smirked and went to the window, opening the curtains. Warm autumn sunlight filled the room. It was a nice weather outside. Maybe they should go to a walk and…

“Aah!” Junsu’s abrupt screech cut through Yoongi’s wandering thoughts. “Oh my God, sun!”

“What?” Yoongi asked with a surprised chuckle.

“Too bright!” Junsu complained, sticking his head back under the covers. “Let me get my sunglasses first.”

“It’s some vampire thing, is it, hyung?” Yoongi questioned him, pulling the curtains down, and Junsu hummed from under the blanket. Only when the bedroom was floating in drowsy dimness again did he climb out. Slowly and sleepily he made his way to the chair where his clothes were hanging and started to put his leather pants on.

“If you want to, I can lend you some clothes,” Yoongi offered.

“Ah, I washed these before going to sleep,” Junsu replied, rolling the pants over his legs and creamy white thighs. “But I borrowed your shirt for sleeping. Figured you might be too cold otherwise.” He lifted up his silk shirt and examined the cloth, shaking his head and giggling merrily. “You really did a number on it. Almost all of the buttons are gone.”

“Sorry,” Yoongi apologised.

“Don’t be,” the other grinned. “It was absolutely worth it. But may I keep yours?”

“’course,” Yoongi answered, trying to sound nonchalant, but the little leap his heart did when seeing Junsu in his t-shirt was hard to ignore. The shirt was black, like most of his wardrobe, and Junsu’s pale skin was almost luminescent against it. Like back in that bookstore, where Junsu was glowing in the soft street light and singing about the king who was too afraid of the world.

Yoongi glanced at his reflection in the small bedroom mirror. A sad king, too afraid to feel anything. Powerless to really want anything. Trapped into his everlasting grey.

“Yoongi?”

“Huh?”

“I said that I am familiar with the owner of the bookstore,” Junsu announced. “He’s looking for a new assistant if you know somebody who needs a job.”

“Okay.”

The vampire cocked his head. “What were you thinking about earlier?”

“Ah,” Yoongi scratched his neck, “Just… the bookstore, when you sang… I mean… I kind of understand the king.“

The other looked at him, confused.

“Your song,” Yoongi reminded him. “I can identify with the king. Even if I’d like to be the prince instead.”

“Ah,” Junsu realised with a small smile. “But you are the prince, Yoongi-ah. Look closely! And yes, you are the king as well. And you are the golden star.”

 

* * *

 

It was quiet in the old bookstore. Almost. Books were basking in a golden afternoon light and whispering softly to each other. It sounded like a rustling of leaves if someone was patient enough to listen.

And there was a worn-out piano in the corner and a man who played it sometimes when the shop was empty of customers. He often stopped and gazed into the glistening air for a long time, fingers trailing a faint scar on his neck. His eyes were dark and tired, but there was a smile dancing in the corner of his lips.

It seemed like yesterday to Yoongi, the day they met, even if it was almost a month ago. Junsu had curled around him on the couch and listened his heartbeat, saying that it was so nice to feel a beating heart after so many decades. And though he had gotten a sudden phone call from his friend – something about the police, vampire hunters and some Jaejoong guy in trouble – and had to leave immediately, an unfamiliar lightness still lingered in Yoongi for the rest of the day.

The bell on the door rang and Yoongi rose, thinking it was another customer. But instead, a deep voice called: “Hey, my sleeping beauties, I’m back from the land of living!” and there was the shop owner himself, hair messy from moody autumn wind, but clothes as immaculate as he had stepped straight down from the catwalk.

“Hey, Taehyung,” Yoongi greeted and the other gave him a wave before putting down the several paper bags he was holding and rummaging through them, mumbling something like: “No, I couldn’t leave it there… I remember, I took it with me.”

Taehyung was a bit odd, to say at least. He was a vampire and therefore probably older than Yoongi, but he never agreed to reveal his true age. And he wanted Yoongi to call him with his plain name, not even hyung. It made sense, somehow, because he looked no older than twenty, but it was still strange at the beginning to get used to. He was also the epitome of randomness, always unpredictable, dashing through the life after his own bizarre rules, almost untainted by logic. But he had a kind heart and the most interesting smile Yoongi had ever seen.

“Found it!” Taehyung exclaimed and presented Yoongi a little bag. “Your lunch. I bought bibimbap.“

“Thanks,” Yoongi replied and critically eyed the other bags standing on the floor. Gucci, every single one of them. Then he looked at the vampire, from the brown Gucci shoes up to his denim jacket. “Ever get enough of Gucci?”

“Yah!” Taehyung yelled and gave the man a withering glare over his rectangular sunglasses. Gucci, of course. “I go outside in this horrendous sun, I risk with my skin and eyes, my head is probably gonna hurt, I endure the living hell… but I won’t complain, because I know that far away, in a little lonely kingdom, a little lonely human boy is waiting for a glorious saviour to end his hunger…”

“I am not little!”

“… and I won’t even get a proper thank you,” the other went on without missing a beat. “Only harsh words and heartless criticism! And people say that vampires are scary and cruel.”

Yoongi snorted and opened the bag. The smell of the food made his mouth water. Unconsciously, when thinking about eating, his fingers wandered to his neck and glided over the small scar. Taehyung saw that and tilted his head curiously.

“Next time I’ll bring you beetroot and read meat,” the vampire smirked. “You know, to increase the formation of red blood cells.”

Yoongi lifted his eyes and sent Taehyung a blank look. “Huh? What for?”

“Oh, just for a certain crimson-haired vampire we both happen to know,” the man feigned nonchalance. “You’ll never know when he’s gonna pass by. Better to be prepared.”

“Fuck you,” Yoongi grunted.

“Oh, no,” Taehyung pretended to be taken aback at Yoongi’s words. “I mean, I have nothing against it, but we don’t want to make Junsu-hyung jealous, do we? Or –” he grinned again and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, “maybe we could do just that? You want him to be jealous for you? He could be pretty scary if he wants to.” Taehyung’s voice had reduced to a low whisper. “Maybe he would even _punish_ you, how does that sound?”

Yoongi cursed again and threw his chopsticks at the vampire. Taehyung was quicker, of course. He dodged Yoongi’s makeshift missile with ease and waltzed past the shelves to the back room, laughing all the way.

Yoongi sighed, picked up the chopsticks and sat at the windowsill to eat. Golden light shone through the windows and painted his pale face the colour of honey. The sun had Junsu’s smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you enjoyed!  
> I might or might not write a sequel to this. I have some ideas, but I am really slow writer and kind of busy at the moment. Maybe I'll finish something by the end of spring, but I don't dare to promise anything.  
> Also, nor me neither my lovely beta speak English as our first language. If there are any spelling mistakes or grammatical errors, feel free to tell me.


End file.
